Blue Bananas
by StrawberryofLife
Summary: Percabeth. Mortal AU. Featuring Percy, Annabeth, Hazel, Frank, Piper, Reyna, Nico, & Jason. Because, really, what's life without the Heroes of Olympus? Co-authored by Oakleaf101.
1. Chapter 1: The Football Game

**A/N: I know. You hate me. Whilst in the middle of writing UCL I have started TWO new fics. Not even just ONE, but two fics! But there is a valid reason for this. My friend (Oakleaf101) and I have decided to do a collaboration on this fic. We've promised ourselves that we will finish this story (because we write so many non fanfiction stories that never reach their ending point) and honestly I'm really proud of this story so far. **

**I have also promised myself that within the next two days I will post Chapter 9 of UCL. **

**Quick Note before you read: The pairings for all my stories are pretty much the same (Percabeth, Frazel, Jiper - or whatever their ship name is) so before you scream at me &amp; Oakleaf101, DON'T WORRY. But technically that was a spoiler so I'm going to shut up now and go write Chapter 9 of UCL. **

**Happy Reading (and please review!)**

**Disclaimer: This whole story, while it was written by myself &amp; Oakleaf101, does not actually belong to us. The characters and whatever else RR has copyrighted is his. The only thing that is ours is the plot. :D **

Chapter 1: The Football Game

The players on the field took off their helmets for halftime. Cheerleaders from the visiting team led their audience in a loud cheer before performing a series of complicated flips and maneuvers.

Jason, a popular freshman in the stands, was impatiently waiting for Hilbury's cheer to begin. On his left was Annabeth, who had been his girlfriend going on two months now. They were both captain of their respective gender's soccer team, so the school wasn't very shocked by them dating.

"Give me a H!"

"H!" the audience yelled back—all but the visiting team, who booed. Jason yelled along with the rest of the student body until they'd spelled out "HEDGEHOGS".

Jason heard the other team laughing about their mascot, which admittedly wasn't the most intimidating animal they could have chosen. But hey, Jason hadn't been there when they opened the school and to be fair Mrs. Fletcher, the science teacher, kept a pretty mean hedgehog in her classroom. Last year Jason had taken Fluffy, a name which made no sense whatsoever, home, only to be bit and stuck with a quill every morning when trying to give the evil creature a piece of lettuce.

"Woo!" the cheerleaders all gave flashy, white smiles and a few did one-handed cartwheels. Jason ended his hedgehog reverie back at the cheerleaders. With their short skirts and tight tops, Jason found that the majority of the student body's male population was practically drooling over them, but not Jason. Before he and Annabeth had gotten together, he had pretended to like them to fit in with his cheerleader-obsessed friends. But he just wasn't really into it. The whole cheerleader attitude just didn't fit Jason's description of a perfect girlfriend.

And so, despite the fact that Jason had many opportunities to "get in good" with the cheerleaders, (they cheered during his games), Jason had really never taken that particular opportunity.

"Hey," Annabeth tapped him on the shoulder. Jason turned to look at her and blushed as he realized that he had been studying other girls. However, Annabeth didn't appear to be bothered. She knew her boyfriend wasn't the kind to cheat. With soft golden curls surrounding her face and sharp grey eyes that seemed to see everything, Annabeth was one of the prettiest girls at Hilbury. She was also one of the smartest, always getting A's in every class, as well as athletic, being the captain of the girls' Varsity soccer team. As a result of this, she attracted lots of boys.

But Jason trusted her. That was another trait about Annabeth- she was completely trustworthy. Plus, she was a feminist with self-respect so Jason knew that she wouldn't do anything with another boy that she would be ashamed to tell him about.

Not for the first time, Jason wondered when she was going to run for Student Body president. Or get accepted into Yale or something.

"I'm getting a Sprite. Want anything?" she asked. She dug through her purse for a few dollars.

Jason shook his head and thanked her, not really in the mood for anything fizzy. She smiled and got up, attracting the attention of a couple guys behind her who looked at her in a fashion Jason didn't particularly appreciate. He _was _her boyfriend after all. But Jason had never really been an overprotective sort of boyfriend, especially over Annabeth, so his gaze soon returned to the field where the cheerleaders could be found returning to their seats on the sidelines. The football players marched out and got into their positions on the field.

"Down…set…HUT!" the quarterback yelled. He eyed the sea of gold and maroon football jerseys, assessing the situation. He hesitated only for a moment before throwing the ball to one of his team members. Whoever caught it (Jason thought it might be number 72, but he couldn't really be sure) ran like the wind; some of his own teammates holding the opposing team back. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he reached the end zone. Hilbury jumped and screamed as one big wave. Jason felt proud to be part of such a spirited team.

O.o

"It's already past halftime, we really shouldn't go," Nico complained, pushing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. He pouted.

"It'll be fine. I asked my friends to save us a seat," Hazel said, smiling, "C'mon…it'll be fun!" Nico made a face; large, crowded places weren't really his thing. And he didn't really know much about football.

"Mom's already in the car," Hazel said. She opened the door to the garage and gestured towards it. She pleaded with her eyes and Nico felt he had to give in.

"You know what? Fine. But as soon as the game's over we are _leaving_." Nico stomped towards the garage, pushing the same lock of dark hair out of his eyes as he slammed the car door.

He sat sullenly in the back seat with his arms crossed the entire way there. Why was Hazel making him go? Didn't she understand this _wouldn't _take the State Prison rejection letter off his mind?

Anger flared very suddenly inside of him. He didn't want to go to this game. All he really wanted was to see his _real _sister, only the stupid, stupid government wouldn't allow it.

Just as suddenly as the anger had come, it died down, replaced with another emotion that was slightly unfamiliar- guilt. It wasn't like Hazel could hear his thoughts but he still felt bad. She tried so hard and been so nice to him...he couldn't really _not _consider her a sister. It was just that sometimes she tried _too _hard, in a way that made it all seem fake. Sometimes it was like he was a guest in her house rather than a family member. Like when she was overly polite, or bought him two scoops instead of getting one scoop for herself. Stuff a real sister usually wouldn't do, like ending an argument suddenly by saying he was right and she was sorry, as if she didn't want to break him.

Like dragging him to this stupid football game.

O.o

Leo laughed along with the others when Tyler, one of his closest friends, opened his Coke and an angry stream of dark liquid shot him in the face. But, not for the first time, his laugh felt kind of…empty. Tyler threw the (now empty) Coke can at a fellow team member who caught it in the air and laughed.

As Tyler drawled on in his distinct southern accent (pretending to scold the boys for shaking his Coke when he hadn't been paying attention), Leo found himself watching the group from the outside, instead of being in the centre of it like usual. He wasn't feeling very rowdy today, for some reason. He looked over at Jason, who apparently felt the same way. He was sitting quietly with Annabeth, intent on watching the game.

Leo looked at his watch. It was almost the end of the third quarter. He might as well just make an excuse and leave. But that wasn't what Leo Valdez, or at least Leo Valdez while attending Hilbury High, did. Leo Valdez from Hilbury was the life of the party, who found humour in every situation (no matter how awkward or disgusting) and brought a sort of fun energy to the group. With this thought, he smiled tiredly. The constant party lifestyle was wearing him a bit thin, but that didn't necessarily mean this lifestyle should stop.

So with a grin, this time full of Hilbury Leo's energy, he joined the group and was soon laughing and shoving along with his friends.

O.o

Nico sat on the bleachers, having maybe the worst time of his life. It wasn't just the crowd that was making him uncomfortable (although it did add to his discomfort). It was this girl sitting next to him, making vain attempts at flirting. Maybe five minutes ago she had approached him, with a large smile on her face. The pretty brunette had plopped down next to him and hadn't shut up since. Nico had the uneasy feeling that he was supposed to say something, maybe ask if she wanted to go grab a cheeseburger with him.

But Nico only liked guys, so this girl was really getting on his nerves. He didn't want to down her self-esteem by telling her he just 'wasn't interested' so he remained quiet.

But after she commented on his silence, playfully punched his shoulder, and winked, Nico had had enough.

"Look, I'm gay, okay?" he burst out. She didn't reply. Her mouth just closed of its own accord, as if it was taking the girl a few minutes to process this information. When she finally replied, there was a rather suspicious tone to her voice.

"Really? Like, you're _actually _gay and not just saying that to get rid of me?"

Nico felt a tinge of annoyance and nodded stiffly. Why did no one ever believe him when he declared it openly? It was almost like they expected him to be embarrassed about it. Then he tried to arrange his features into the most sympathetic look he could imagine (it was rather dramatic, he thought), but it did the trick. Looking very red and embarrassed, the girl ran off. Nico wondered if the teasing would start again. The finger pointing and whispering and the bullying.

But at the moment, he really didn't care.

**A/N: Do you like it? Please say you do in a review! Oakelaf101 should be posting this exact same story on her account so you don't need to check it out on her account, but you should check out her other Percy Jackson stories! **

**Thanks for reading!**

**Cookies! **

**StrawberryofLife xx**


	2. Chapter 2: Cinnamon

**A/N: So thank you so much to those you favourited &amp; followed - you guys are the best and I love you. 3 I'm really, really, really, really sorry that this took a while, but hopefully it's worth the wait? **

Chapter 2: Cinnamon

Frank finished the question he'd been working on and flipped over the test, very confident in his ability to get an A+, like always. He'd studied a good two hours each night since Ms. Thomas, the biology teacher, had announced the when the test was to take place. But this wasn't unusual behavior for Frank; in fact, he'd been studying for tests this hard since the 1st Grade, when there'd be weekly spelling tests with words like "blue and blew". His good habits had paid off, especially throughout Middle School when his fellow classmates' grades started slipping, while he remained a straight A student.

Frank was just about to read the sixth question, when a sudden whiff of what smelled like cinnamon interrupted all thoughts of his Biology Test. Just that small whiff of what he assumed (but hadn't confirmed) was the smell of cinnamon, sent him tumbling down memory road.

It reminded him of Saturday mornings, before his parents had started their weekly commute, when his grandmother would sit at the kitchen table, waiting for breakfast impatiently and reading aloud e-mails she'd gotten from her brother, who lived in Beijing. His father and mother would cook the breakfast. His father would make eggs and bacon while his mother cooked cinnamon rolls, Frank's favourite breakfast. The spicy, yet sweet smell of cinnamon filled the air and that signaled that the cinnamon rolls were done. Frank closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying both the memory and the smell. Then he tried to locate the smell casually, by turning his head slightly and sniffing the air either side of him. But when he finally found the scent, he discovered it was coming from in _front _of him; not behind him as he'd originally thought.

In front of him, though, was simply a curtain of long, dark hair. Perhaps that's what smelled of cinnamon? Frank leaned forward, his nose barely centimeters from the girl's hair and inhaled. Sure enough, it radiated cinnamon. Frank breathed in the scent for a few seconds, before leaning back in his chair, pencil poised to answer whatever question was next on the test.

It quite suddenly occurred to him, though, that hair didn't commonly smell like cinnamon. How did that girl make her hair smell so good? Perhaps she used some sort of cinnamon shampoo. Frank was confident that girls sometimes used strawberry shampoo to make their hair smell good. In fact, he was quite sure that his mother used some sort of "tropical fantasy" coconut shampoo. But _cinnamon _shampoo? Did that even _exist_? Frank leaned forward again, just to make sure it wasn't some other scent he was confusing with cinnamon. But as he was leaning forward, the girl suddenly pulled her hair into a high ponytail in a few swift motions. Frank was so close to her hair that when the ponytail fell into place on the back of her head, it whacked Frank on the nose, filling his nostrils with the strong spicy-sweet smell of cinnamon. Frank retracted quickly, his spine hitting the chair in a rather painful manner. But Frank didn't notice the pain; he was too busy making sure no one had seen him creepily sniffing a girls' hair. Pink-cheeked and embarrassed, Frank returned to his test, eager to take his mind off the embarrassing incident.

O.o

"…and that's when—believe it or not—the lizard decided to crawl out of my shirt pocket. She never believed me after that." Jason laughed at his friend's tale of the summer before high school, not sure if he was completely telling the truth or not. But it was funny, whether or not it was true, so he, and everyone that had been listening to the story intently, all laughed.

"What was _your _summer like?" Daniel asked Jason inquisitively, wondering if Jason had any funny stories to recall. "Ooh, _I _know this one," Sam said, behind Jason, "tell that one about the time when you got dropped off at the Girls' Swim Meet instead of the Boys'." Daniel, whose eyes widened at the prospect of hearing about girls in potential skimpy bathing suits, urged Jason to tell the story.

Jason, who hadn't ever been accidentally dropped at the Girls' Swim Meet, knew a good opportunity when he saw one. So he went along with Sam's little plan and told an over-exaggerated story of him ending up in the Girls' Locker Room, with Sam adding in little details ("when you told _me _the story you said you found the team captain in a compromising position with her boyfriend"). Eventually Daniel realized that the boys were both kidding, but he laughed along until the end of the story, when Jason found a very stern-looking Mr. Blinn hovering at the boys' desks.

"Please get back to work, boys. This is _not _a time for chit-chatting. This is a time for _Algebra._" The three boys quickly returned to the worksheets on their desks, attempting to remember yesterday's formulas and use them on the worksheet. Eventually, Jason found a question that was really stumping him. Instead of asking his friends for help (they would probably just try and throw him off) he stood up and went to the front of the classroom to ask Mr. Blinn for help.

But as soon as Jason approached the desk—before he'd had time to ask for help—Mr. Blinn said, "Oh, good, Jason. I was wondering if you could do me a favour? I need some markers for tomorrow's lesson—could you go down to the art classroom and grab them for me? That would be great, thanks." Mr. Blinn finished before Jason could even accept. Not wanting to get in trouble for his earlier banter, Jason quickly accepted this opportunity, dropping his half-finished worksheet back on his desk, picking up a hall pass from Mr. Blinn, and running towards the art classroom at full speed—which was quite fast, seeing as Jason was captain of the Boys' Soccer Team.

O.o

_Question #12: Compare and contrast mitosis and meiosis. What are the results of mitosis and meiosis? Explain your reasoning. _

So far, Frank hadn't found any of the questions particularly challenging. But this one was _especially_ easy, since he'd read the section on cells just last night. He scribbled his answer in messy, but still quite readable, handwriting and read the next question. But Frank, who was confident in his ability to get a good grade almost to the point of overconfidence, allowed his mind to wander to things beside the biology test. One thought led to another and pretty quickly he found himself wondering what colour eyes the cinnamon girl in front of him had. Perhaps she had brown eyes. Or blue or green. But he couldn't quite put his finger on the girl's eye colour.

Not remembering her eye colour, he decided to try and recall her name instead. He was quite sure it was Hannah, but for some reason that didn't sound right. Perhaps it was Helen? No, that didn't sound right. What about…_Hazel. _Yes, that was it. _Hazel. _It seemed to be a fitting name for a girl whose hair smelled of cinnamon. Hazel was a beautiful name. Frank wondered what it would be like to say the name aloud. Before he could stop himself, he heard the words—however quiet—leave his lips, _"Hazel_" he said quietly. But Hazel, the girl in front of him, heard and turned around looking slightly annoyed. _Golden. _Those were the colour of Hazel's eyes. Frank turned very red in the face and busied himself with his test. With a quiet mutter that sounded and awful lot like, _"Boys_…" Hazel turned back to her test.

After that, it took Frank almost the entire period for finish, which was strange since he was usually the first or second to hand his test in. But he thought nothing of it, figuring it was probably just a harder test, seeing as he was now in High School. He quickly made a mental note to study extra hard for midterms; despite the fact they were over three months away. There was no way his grandmother would approve of him getting lower than a 97 average for the semester.

Frank almost laughed out loud. Like that would ever happen.

O.o

Jason paused outside the door to the art classroom, wondering if he should knock. But he thought better of it and just opened the door instead.

Art had never been a passion of Jason's. He'd never really been talented in that area, he was more of an athlete than an artist, but he'd always liked the atmosphere of art class. It was interesting to watch something so simple, such as a plain canvas and a smear of paint or a block of stone and a chisel, turn into something beautiful: a painting, a sculpture, a work of _art. _Jason held a special appreciation for art, although he never had really understood _why _he held an appreciation for such things.

Maybe half the class looked like they were _actually _having fun, but that was better than most classes. Some of the people were only there to get fine art credit but the atmosphere was casual and friendly and the young, bubbly art teacher was really quite lenient and just generally pleasant to be around. (Well, according to his friend, Jeremy, who was in fifth period art class.) Currently, she was helping one of the students—a boy, with caramel-coloured hair. Jason's eyes did a sweep of the classroom.

The boy to girl ratio was pretty even, but there was obviously a wide variety of personalities in the room. There were no 'art geeks' like the ones in stereotypical teen movies. In fact, the kids seemed normal. Surprisingly, Jason came to the conclusion that he wouldn't mind taking this course, even though he could barely draw a straight line on a blank piece of paper.

Jason's eyes were drawn to the corner of the room, where a girl sat on a stool, molding a lump of clay. As he watched, her hands worked, transforming the lump into the shape of vase.

She looked oddly familiar; he could've sworn he'd seen her cheering at one of his games before. But she looked different in the art classroom than she did out on the field. She looked...happy. Her face glowed and there was a certain sparkle in her eyes—watching her make the vase was sort of like watching a dancer on stage. She was graceful in her movements, her slender fingers touching _just _the right places on the vase to make it the right shape.

Jason soon found himself staring. He felt as if he could just take a picture right now, with the sun streaming through the windows and hitting her chocolate-brown hair _just right_ it had the potential to be an ad for any sort of pottery-making company. Not just any ad, but a very _successful _ad. He knew if he saw this frozen snapshot on any magazine or TV it would be enough to convince him to do pottery. Not because of the beauty of the girl, (although the girl was quite good-looking), but because of the pure happiness that radiated from her. She conducted energy, she had found her passion… she was the centre of the room even though she was in the corner. And even if he took a picture—he took multiple ones in his mind—he was pretty sure, even though the picture was unmoving—you could see the motion as her nimble fingers shaped the pottery. You could imagine her doing what she did just now.

But then the art teacher approached him, startling Jason out of his thoughts. Jason turned to her, racking his brain to remember what he needed from the classroom. The art teacher was a short, plump blonde with squinty green eyes and a very hipster-y sense of style. She wore thick, square black glasses and had a very friendly smile.

"Hello!" she said, in a voice that sounded as bubbly as Jeremy had described, "I'm Ms. Arnold, the art teacher. How can I help you?" Jason gave her a nervous smile, still trying to remember what he needed. He felt stupid, standing their awkwardly in silence. All of a sudden he remembered: _markers._ How could he have forgotten?

"Jason," Jason introduced himself, "I was sent by Mr. Blinn to collect some markers."

Ms. Arnold turned to go get the markers and then hesitated and turned back towards Jason. "Any specific types?" she asked, "Felt-tip? Crayola? Sharpie?"

"Uh…Mr. Blinn didn't really say what type of marker he wanted…I guess I'll just get Crayola, then?" Jason said. It came out more like a question than he had intended. There were so many types of markers, it seemed, and Jason was decently sure there would be more types available if he prodded further. He'd coloured a lot what he was younger, but art he had soon figured out art wasn't really his forte and he'd been introduced to soccer around that time, too, so there was something new and exciting to pique his interest.

Ms. Arnold left Jason by himself to observe the students and the art they were creating. A few minutes later she returned, this time with a box of Crayola markers. Jason thanked her and headed back towards Mr. B's classroom, but the girl with chocolate brown hair who had shaped a beautiful vase on her spinning wheel so quickly and so effortlessly, was still in the back of his mind.

**A/N: So if you like it or have criticism or anything, leave a review! I really do appreciate it. **

**xx**

**StrawberryofLife**


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